


knock twice if you hear me

by maehie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Apartment AU, M/M, Modern AU, it's not slow burn it's more like a medium roast, mentions of genyatta and mekamechanic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maehie/pseuds/maehie
Summary: Hanzo's neighbor is unapologetically loud, and these apartment walls are far too thin.(Or, in which Hanzo and McCree become neighbors and bond in the apartment's laundry rooms at 1:46 A.M. while Genji is laughing from somewhere else.)





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo Shimada was a patient man.

 

It took a lot of patience to forgive himself and his brother for all the wasted arguments. It took a lot of patience to rebuild, piece by piece, the fragments of a brotherly love. It took a lot of a patience to sneak funds from the family to make a silent move from Japan to America. And it certainly took a lot of patience, some that Hanzo was unaware he possessed, to not pound on his neighbor’s door and yell at him to, “Silence your and your partner’s obscene noises, it is 4 A.M. and I have work in the morning.”

 

It didn’t stop in the day, either; it was as if every moment was filled with the muffled laugh of a man and the constant drawl of sweet nothings, the petty endearments, in the sickening Southern accent. Day after day, Hanzo put up with his neighbor’s seeming ignorance of the thinness of their walls.

 

(Hanzo might admit, maybe, that he could’ve been jealous. Of all his years, when did he get to have a lover who so devotedly and genuinely doted upon him? Was it so much to ask for one to adore him? Why could he not just let others be happy in peace without-

 

He cuts off the dangerous trail of thinking.)

 

* * *

 

It all started the day he moved in.

 

Genji had been living in the area for a year longer, and recommended Overwatch Apartments, and it seemed suspiciously _too_ perfect. His flat placed him on the seventh floor, five stories away from Genji; he did love his brother, yes, but he got more than enough of living with him back in Japan. It was also at the far end of the hall, meaning he only had one neighbor rather than two. The rent wasn’t cheap, but it was still a bargain considering the close proximity to the city, meaning Hanzo could easily commute to work. The building wasn’t exactly new, but the remodeling projects did some decent work on it.

 

All in all, Hanzo was satisfied as he skimmed through the papers back in Japan. Genji promised it was as great in person as it was on paper, so when the chance finally arose, Hanzo packed his bags and moved.

 

Genji gave him a rundown of his friends in the apartment in the car ride there from the airport: Zenyatta (absolutely wonderful and intelligent monk), Angela (literal resident angel), Fareeha (works for the police department and kick you dead), Jesse (cowboy connoisseur with a knack for darts), Reinhardt (can be heard from three stories away, but thankfully lives on the first floor).

 

Hanzo didn't care to memorize the elaborate caricatures his brother was describing to him. Quite frankly, he was more concerned with getting his boxes unpacked and procuring a rice cooker.

 

He felt like he had been unpacking boxes for hours. He was fit, but he wasn't young; his back ached from the strain of lifting so much and his shirt was dampening with sweat. Genji already excused himself an hour earlier,

 

 

(“I’m so so _so_ sorry! I promised Zen a date!”

 

“A date? I was unaware of your romantic status.”

 

“Wink, wink, brother. Genji’s getting l-a-i-d.”

 

Hanzo swats at him.)

 

 

and now Hanzo was left to finish the work. A few boxes were still littered across the floor, and the only furniture he had were a few bar stools for the kitchen counter and a mattress, but it was enough.

 

Anything was better than the nothing he left behind.

 

So Hanzo peeled off his shirt, then the rest of his clothes, and headed into the shower. It seemed his neighbor wasn’t home, and he was more than fine with it. All the more quiet for him. He let the hot water run over and relax his weary muscles; he began planning out how the rest of the night should go.

 

(A cup of hot green tea, first, since Genji was kind enough to give him some upon moving to America. Possibly meditate and stretch a bit, or maybe he would fall asleep immediately.)

 

The serenity of the warm water and billows of steamy air was shattered the minute he heard a loud thump slam on the other side of the wall. Hanzo’s honed reflexes stiffened his posture and turned the stream of water off as to not muffle the sound of a threat approaching.

 

Genji and Hanzo had specifically looked for a low crime area, so Hanzo knew there was no real trouble, but he couldn’t help the initial spike of concern. But these fears were alleviated and replaced with discomfort as a man’s giggle and loud, pleased sigh rang out. The noises from next door became increasingly distasteful and left Hanzo scurrying out of his own bathroom; the flush on his face and chest were definitely not the result of the hot shower alone.

 

What Hanzo nor Genji nor anyone couldn’t have known was his neighbor was absolutely in love. Nobody except the menace of a neighbor himself.

 

As it turns out, it wasn’t a quiet love, like Hanzo had experienced in his own past: hushed smiles and interlocking fingers, quiet gestures. No, his neighbor loved _loudly_. When he wasn’t forced to hear some rather passionate lovemaking, he was listening to boisterous laughter or an admittedly creative list of endearments. Hanzo even began seeking solace in Genji’s apartment under the excuse of his home smelling like dust from the packing boxes, though he had long finished unpacking.

 

* * *

 

Only once had Hanzo retaliated. The two neighbors had been engaging in rather noisy activities, and as much as Hanzo wanted to leave his office room, he was also confined to the room if he wanted to finish his filing order for work. The obscene noises from his neighbor were at least quieter than usual, but still aggravating to his already growing headache. He needed to be extremely careful to get _every_ number correct, otherwise the corporate heads would be disappointed and-

 

“Darlin’, that blindfold is as tight as a noose. Ain’t that supposed to go on a different head?”

 

Hanzo slammed the wall with his palm. His palm stung and the frames of artwork adorning his wall shook lightly. Abruptly, the nextdoor noises were silenced. A few moments passed, and Hanzo allowed himself a private smile. Finally, some peace and quiet.

 

And then.

 

“Oh, you like that? You got a thing for bein’ too noisy?”

 

Hanzo learned in that moment that the scalp is surprisingly good at holding in hair if even a man with his own strength was pulling at it.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo had yet to catch a glimpse of his neighbor, but despite what Genji teased him for, it was not due to a lack of communication skills. He, in fact, made a friendly alliance between a few other like-minded tenants. Tenants who were sophisticated and upheld proper decorum.

 

(It was in fact more of a gossipers club over a cup of some overpriced tea.)

 

Said tenants were seated in Mei-Ling’s flat on the third floor, gathered around her tea table to engage in “sophisticated discussion” on the topic of Hanzo’s obnoxious neighbor.

 

“Who? Your neighbor?” Amélie’s lip curled with disinterest, “I have no knowledge of the man.”

 

“Oh, please, simply because you know of only four residents, including Gerard, does not mean we are all ignorant of the inhabitants of this pitiful excuse of a building,” Satya said before turning pointedly to Hanzo, “Your neighbor is Jesse McCree. Similar in age to you, and is in a relationship with a male who resides in a different housing area. His field of work is unknown to me, however, Mr. Reyes may be of assistance as they are quite close.”

 

“Is that so?” Hanzo angrily grumbled to his cup of tea, “Because it appears as if his _partner_ lives in the apartment, if the noise level is any indication of residential status.”

 

Amélie snorted with amusement and raised a fine brow. “Are you sure it is not jealousy? Satya could perhaps relate to you better in the loneliness department.”

 

Satya pinched her lips together, about to add to the usual good natured banter, but Hanzo interjected before she could, “But what of the woman, Sombra?” Mei nodded earnestly in agreement, and he continued, “What of Sombra? I have seen her entering Satya’s apartment far too many times to simply be friendly.”

 

Both Satya and Amélie looked at each other with wide eyes, and Hanzo momentarily forgot about his own crisis.

 

Mei, though, chose to ignore the peanut gallery in favor of leaning across the table to Hanzo with wide eyes. “So, what will you do? I’m sure if you talk to him and maybe ask him to be a little bit quieter, it’ll be okay! Or, um,” she frowned and said, “I suppose you could talk to Mr. Morrison, but I don’t know…”

 

Hanzo balked at the thought of bringing up a noise complaint, especially one with vulgar implications, with his already grumpy landlord.

 

“I suppose it would do me no harm to talk to Mr. McCree,” he said, resigned to his fate.

 

* * *

 

He swore he would do it. But every day provided a new excuse: it was a long day at work, or he wanted to visit Genji, or it was quieter than usual today and perhaps they finally learned to practice some restraint. Hanzo knew that truthfully, deep down, he managed to obtain some sort of morbid amusement from it.

 

Hanzo learned some odd facts about his neighbor.

 

First, he spoke Spanish, and Hanzo would be lying if he said he was not curious of what the man was saying. He would also be lying if he didn't have a newfound attraction to the sound of the language.

 

(But certainly not to McCree’s voice. No.)

 

Second, he could dance while playing the guitar. And sing. While Hanzo initially thought it was his partner doing the dancing, there were too many footsteps for one person to ever make on their own.

 

Third, his neighbor had a lovely laugh. It was loud despite being muffled through the wall, and it wasn't for Hanzo’s ears to hear, but he couldn't help the corners of his mouth turn upwards at the honey sound of the man’s laughter.

 

And there was so much more: he didn’t like his coffee black, he actually didn't like country music despite allegedly being a modern day cowboy, his job had him out at night, he loved and did an excellent job of serving breakfast in bed, Mr. Reyes was essentially his adoptive father. Hanzo didn't expect the twist in his gut from having such familiarity with a stranger; he said he just wanted peace and quiet at night, but somehow the sounds of his neighbor became the new peace to him, as natural as the sounds of cars hurrying to their destinations at night and the song of crickets in the summer.

 

* * *

 

It turned out that Hanzo never needed to approach McCree about the thinness of the walls and the loudness of his voice, because as suddenly as he was made aware of the relationship upon moving into Overwatch Apartments, he was made aware of its end.

 

He felt a pang of guilt in his gut, as if he were the cause of the obvious end of the relationship.

 

Nights of adoring chatter, or admittedly much less pleasant to hear grunting, had been replaced with shaky exhalations and barely audible sobs before soon becoming nothing at all.

 

It was silent, just what Hanzo had been so desperately praying for just a week earlier.

 

Hanzo only heard the sound of his own breathing and the traffic from beyond the apartment. It was disconcerting, and rather than feeling a need to shout at his neighbor to, “kindly shut the fuck up,” Hanzo wanted to bang the door and ask him to laugh, to just be happy again.

 

The realization of how deeply sympathetic he felt to a total stranger was startling, leaving him staring at the ceiling at night with furrowed brows at his behavior. He doesn't even know what happened. Did they break up? Did they move? Die? Selfishly, he thought, the worst part was he could offer no words of comfort because he had no place to do so.

 

(He thinks it may be for his own good. _Don't get attached to things that can't b_ e, he thinks. _He doesn’t even know you, and you don’t know him._ If he can't see, and now can't hear, his neighbor, he may as well not have one anymore. Nobody to have unnecessary attachment to.)

 

* * *

 

It was a warm night.

 

The blankets felt too heavy and hot for Hanzo who woke with a cold sweat and eyes wide open from another nightmare. He dragged himself out of bed and poured a cold glass of water. He quickly put on slippers and slid the balcony door open, stepping out to catch some fresh air. Inhaling deeply and letting his eyes slide shut, he allowed the breeze to relax his body and thoughts. The scent of his mini garden to the left of him and the quiet sounds of ambient city noise brought Hanzo’s pulse back down and slowly he felt sleep creep back upon him. That is, until he heard a mix between a sniffle and cough come from the balcony adjacent to his own. He whipped his head to face the sound, dark hair falling out of place from its loose knot in the process.

 

On the cement flooring of the bare balcony sat the bulk of a man much larger than Hanzo. Oddly enough, the first thing Hanzo noticed was the heart patterned boxers and tight white t-shirt that was most definitely stained. He belatedly noticed his neighbor caught him staring.

 

Hanzo blinked. His neighbor blinked back.

 

“Uh.” the man across the balcony lifted an arm in a half-hearted wave. Hanzo returned it silently. “Howdy?”

 

Hanzo abruptly realized the red puffiness rimming the other man’s eyes, the disheveled hair, the dark circles aging his face. He then realized they had been engaged in an unknowing staring contest, which Hanzo ended by glancing inside his own apartment, breaking the reverie.

 

“Good night,” Hanzo said lamely. McCree only nodded dumbly in response, unmoving. Hanzo stiffly stepped inside and shut the door, retreating hastily to his bed and pulling the sheets over his head in embarrassment despite the fact he was alone in his home. _Maybe Genji was right_ , he thought self pityingly. _Maybe I do need Social Interactions 101._

 

Sleep doesn't come easily to Hanzo Shimada, but when it does, it's of McCree on his balcony, strumming easily at a guitar and crooning a tune in some language Hanzo doesn't know to a lover Hanzo doesn’t know. He wondered, as he woke up and prepared for work the next morning, if it were better to have just had the nightmare instead.

 

* * *

 

It was 6:34 P.M. on a Saturday, meaning Hanzo was wearing sweatpants and a tshirt while heating leftovers to eat while watching a program that would definitely not be reality TV. It was also exactly 23 minutes after the unofficial teatime club disbanded for the day after Zaryanova unknowingly intruded upon a session, almost catching air of Hanzo filling them in on his latest encounter with the neighbor.

 

(He decided to omit the part where McCree was still visibly distressed at the loss of his partner. Or the entire part about him ending the relationship in general. It felt invasive. A violation of the nonexistent trust they shared.)

 

He felt some minor discomfort, though, at bottling in the confused feelings of sympathy and concern. Was it even his place to comfort a stranger on a situation he, truthfully, had little knowledge on? Perhaps he’d call Genji, since after all, he is the one who told Hanzo he didn’t have to hold it all in by himself. Brothers are still brothers, and he’d end up being teased anyway. Hanzo barely noticed knocking from his door and shot up from his seat on the kitchen counter to answer.

 

He expected perhaps Mei, or maybe Satya. Genji was out of town for the day, so it surely wouldn’t be him. Certainly not a sheepish looking man fiddling with a cowboy hat held to his chest. So, Hanzo stared, as he usually does when caught in an inconvenient situation.

 

“Well,” McCree began in a deep drawl, eyes finally locking onto Hanzo’s with more confidence, “I reckon I forgot my manners the other night and, well, hell, forgot ‘em for all this time that you’ve been my neighbor. So, ‘lo there! I’m Jesse McCree. Been livin’ here for round 6 or 7 years now.”

 

“I know.”

 

McCree’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, his wide and easy grin faltering slightly. The microwave beeped demandingly in the background. Hanzo realized his blunder, and quickly recollected himself, smoothing out his expression.

 

“I apologize, that is to say, the tenants informed me of your name upon moving in.” McCree relaxed at the technically-not-a-lie. “I am Hanzo Shimada.”

 

“Well then!” McCree smiled and placed his hat on his head. He dipped his fingers into his belt loops and leaned back. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ you more often, Hanzo!”

 

His neighbor, no, McCree made the short distance to his own door and walked right back in. Hanzo was still staring out the front of his own door. Though his expression was one of trained neutrality, he was mentally wrestling with one thought.

 

How had he gone so long without knowing his neighbor was the most frustratingly handsome man he had laid sights upon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this is my first overwatch fic 8) hope yall like it, and ty to scott for being a cool beta and laughing a little bit while reading


	2. Chapter 2

Genji’s slightly distorted voice rang out from Hanzo’s phone. Hanzo wished the connection would cut off now and save him the embarrassment, but luck never seemed to favor him. He buried his face in the cushion of his couch instead.

 

“Oh, Hanzo,” he wheezed out between wild peals of laughter, “ _McCree_ is your neighbor? The one who had too much loud sex? Oh, God, I gotta go up there right now.”

 

“Absolutely not.” Hanzo glared as if Genji could see him right now. His younger brother knew him well enough to predict his current expression, anyway.

 

“I can’t believe I never realized your door numbers were right next to each other! Are you friends yet? Did he bring you an apple pie? Whiskey? Some condoms?”

 

Hanzo ignored Genji’s incessant rambling in favor of scolding him. “Are you running up the stairs right now? I hear rustling from your side. We’re five floors apart. Genji-”

 

His phone beeped to indicate the call ended. He glared at the door expectantly.

 

If Hanzo had not known Genji, he would’ve assumed he was rude. But Hanzo knew Genji, and he knew he was _far_ beyond just rude.

 

So he wasn’t surprised, though not pleased, when he heard excited ringing of the doorbell to the house next door and the low tone of McCree’s voice pleasantly, but confusedly, greeting Genji. And he certainly wasn’t surprised when he heard the lock of his door being fiddled with before being barged open by a certain younger brother in tow with McCree who, to his own credit, looked rather unfazed by the abduction.

 

Genji elbowed McCree before proudly sauntering over to Hanzo and sticking a hand out to gesture at him.

 

“Jesse, this is my beloved and awful older brother.”

 

McCree whistled and rubbed his beard mildly, “Well I’ll be damned. Y’all look a pinch similar when you’re next to each other, but I’d’ve never guessed otherwise.”

 

Hanzo leaned towards Genji to whisper lowly, “Is that a word? Is he really acting like “I’d’ve” is a word?”

 

Perhaps Genji had not heard him, or simply delegated to ignore him as he often would, because he instead announced that he, Lúcio, and Hana were going out to a bar that night, and that McCree and Hanzo should definitely join in. Hanzo’s impulse reaction was to say no, but he even surprised himself when he asked, “What time are you arranging to meet up?”

 

Genji’s mouth dropped minutely before he smiled even more widely, pride evident in his crinkled eyes. “Eh, eight-ish? Maybe? I’ll be up here to, you know, saddle you up?”

 

McCree laughed fondly and said, “I spose there ain’t a real good reason for me to say no to you, Genji, considerin’ work’s off for the night. Just don’t go and take us to one of them flashy neon bars. You know how I feel about ‘em.”

 

Genji swatted at the air. “No, don’t worry. I know you. Besides, Hanzo is a stick in the mud already.”

 

Hanzo cocked his chin up indignantly at that. He flicked his eyes over to McCree who seemed to be smiling amicably at nothing in particular. He made eye contact with Hanzo and tilted his head curiously, smile still hanging off his lips. Hanzo averted his eyes back to Genji who was busy tapping away at his phone who then looked back up at Hanzo with a grin.

 

In proud Japanese, Genji said, “Alright, I’ve done my wingmanning! My brother _finally_ makes one friend in his life!” Genji turned to McCree and the two chatted for a bit over needing to keep in touch better, which ended with Genji apologizing and saying, while looking pointedly at Hanzo’s crisp white t-shirt and black slacks, “Please make sure my brother doesn’t look like a corporate drone. He does a poor job at pretending to be a human and not some android.”

 

Hanzo scoffed and waved the two other men out of his home.

 

The door clicked shut, and the silence returned.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hanzo frowned at his appearance in the mirror. Sure, he wasn’t going to a “flashy neon bar,” but even so, the pale blue button up and black slacks felt too formal for a simple bar. He hadn’t gotten specifics on what type of bar it was, but he didn’t want to ask Genji in fear of sounding over-eager. Besides, even Hanzo knew that Genji’s chaotic fashion sense meant he thought anything that wasn’t green hair with transparent mesh t-shirts was overdressed. He sighed and slipped on a black cargo jacket for the rapidly cooling nights.

 

Before he could further criticize his attire, he heard knocking from the door, and he frowned.

 

Do they not notice the doorbell right next to the door?

 

Hanzo grunted a rough, “Coming!” as he tied his hair into his usual short ponytail and checked his appearance quickly in a mirror.

 

(His hair was getting longer. And grayer.

 

He looked more like his father like this, Hanzo thought with some distaste.)

 

Hanzo cracked the door open to reveal his neighbor standing in front of his door with his fingers hooked into the pockets of his dark denim jeans and framing a golden belt buckle with “BAMF” engraved in it. His beige plaid shirt was stretched snugly across his wide chest and tucked rather neatly into said jeans, Hanzo noted with a helplessly appreciative eye that he hoped McCree did not take note of.

 

McCree looked up from where he was digging his heel carelessly into the carpet of the apartment hallway and immediately smiled at Hanzo with a nod for a greeting.

 

“Hey there Hanzo! Genji told me I should go and grab ya. We’re all set to head out.”

 

Hanzo glanced at his phone that had remained silent throughout his preparations.

 

“Ah, it seems Genji decided to forget to tell me when we were leaving. It is no matter. I am ready to leave, anyhow.”

 

McCree chuckled and leaned onto the frame of the front door, commenting on Genji’s carefree nature. Hanzo grabbed his keys and phone off a counter and allowed McCree to lead them to the elevator while filling the space between them with small talk.

 

(“How’re you liking Overwatch Apartments? Us fellas got pretty lucky with getting the the top floor, huh?

 

“Yes, the view at night is quite nice.”

 

“And ain’t it just? Folks like Morrison on the first floor don’t know what they’re missin’ out on.” McCree leaned in, the cheeky grin and glint in his eyes from the poor elevator lighting nothing but conspiratorial as he whispered, “But if ya ask me, old bastard could use goin’ another 6 feet under. Have you _seen_ how much rent he charges?”

 

Hanzo barked out an uncharacteristically loud laugh at that.)

 

Upon reaching the parking basement, Genji immediately waved a heavily ring-clad hand at the two men. He gushed briefly about how much Hanzo and McCree would like this bar and cooed at Hanzo’s “stiff fashion.” He gestured for them to enter a sleek black car with music loud enough to be fully audible from outside of it. Hanzo grimaced openly. The driver’s window rolled down and a young man with thick dreads and a beaming smile poked his head out.

 

“What’s taking y’all! Let’s go!”

 

Hanzo recognized the man as Lúcio from Genji’s stories. He slipped off his jacket and climbed into the backseat. Genji sat between him and McCree but not without loud complaints of his cramped legs.

 

“Ugh, why am _I_ sitting middle? Hanzo is the shortest.” Hanzo rolled his eyes at that. “Anyway, our lovely driver is Lúcio, I mentioned him, and-”

 

“I’m Hana. I live with my dad on floor five,” interrupted the girl sitting up front, turning in her seat to flash a brief peace sign and grab a glance at the two men in the backseat before going back to her phone. “Sorry, the group chat is on _fire_ right now, I’m trying to find a pic for it.”

 

Hanzo decided that was ample introduction.

 

McCree leaned back as much as he could in the cramped car as it exited the garage and introduced himself as well, apparently a stranger to Hana and Lúcio as well. Conversation ebbed and flowed; Genji opted to lead most of the conversation since he was the mutual friend to invite them all, but Lúcio’s naturally talkative nature and McCree’s charming quips helped to keep the atmosphere light.

 

“Oh, and,” Lúcio started as he turned a corner rather violently and pressed harshly on the gas pedal, “I hope none of you mind that I invited Jamie-”

 

“ _Whaaat_ !” Hana whined. “Last time you invited Jamison, he tried to turn my phone into a bomb! And Morrison tried to get an investigation on his apartment ‘cause he thought it was a _meth lab_.”

 

Lúcio just tossed his head back and laughed; the car swerved haphazardly with every bounce of his shoulders. Hanzo grabbed the safety handle. McCree just shook his head, his chuckling muffled under the pounding music and Genji’s much louder laughing.

 

“I’m serious Lú!” Hana slouched dramatically in her seat. “Your taste in friends is almost as bad as your taste in music… Especially for a musician.”

 

“Hey!” Lúcio barely managed to say between his laughter, “I’ll have you know Ariana Grande is an icon! Also, I invited Brigitte for you, so no complaining.”

 

Hana turned the slightest bit red, snorted, and punched her friend’s arm roughly.

 

Lúcio pulled into a parking spot with surprising grace and the music shut off, bringing blissful silence. Hanzo immediately stepped out of the car, grateful to have solid ground under his feet again.

 

He quickly met Jamison who was startlingly tall when standing up straight and had an incredibly thick Australian accent. He was as unpredictable and obsessed with explosions as Hana had said, though his ramblings did prove to be a source of amusement through the night.

 

Brigitte arrived well after food and drinks were taken up, apologizing about how she couldn’t cancel her training so last minute. Hanzo didn’t miss the way Hana’s eyes lit up upon seeing the other young woman. He looked to Genji who had the same knowing look in his eyes and mouthed something about young love.

 

When he turned his focus back to them, Brigitte was playfully pinching Hana’s nose and said, “The day you can _legally_ outdrink me is the day you can learn how I manage to lift so much.”

 

Hanzo startled at this information. “How old are you?”

 

Hana snorted and replied, “I’m 19. Birthday’s coming up, but yeah. I like to hang out with you gramps every now and then, though. I just tell myself that you guys are, like, good mentorship or something.”

 

“Hey!” Genji shouted, “I have good uncle-ish advice for you sometimes!”

 

“Oh yeah? Like what? Like when you thought getting bread out of a toaster with a fork was what you were _supposed_ to do? And not how you get yourself killed?”

 

Genji sputtered an indignant noise in response and the bickering continued.

 

Though Hanzo was admittedly enjoying himself, their endless energy had exhausted him this far into the night. He excused himself and slid out from the booth. Genji clapped his shoulder after Hanzo reassured him that he simply needed a quick breather. He navigated his way out the door and into a more secluded side of the building.

 

He sucked in a deep breath of the chilly night air and leaned back against the brick walls. His fingers twitched in desire for a cigarette.

 

(Better to not get back into old habits, he thought. He hadn’t smoked since coming to the States.

 

And smoking just because familiar nerves still get agitated in the presence of hot blooded youth? He berated himself further. Just a tamed rendition of his wild anger with Genji so many years ago-)

 

Purposefully loud footsteps alerted Hanzo of someone’s approach, which he correctly assumed to be McCree’s. The taller man took a spot against the wall, a respectable but still friendly distance from Hanzo, and drummed his fingers against his thigh for a few moments before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

 

“You mind?” McCree asked, holding the unlit stick up to his lips.

 

Hanzo shook his head despite knowing it would certainly not help his present craving for nicotine.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

McCree cupped the end of the cigarette with one hand and lit it up with the other, then stuffed the lighter into his pocket.

 

“Much obliged.”

 

Hanzo stared at McCree through the corner of his eye.

 

The liquor seemed to have softened McCree’s usual charisma and boisterous charm into something more quiet and soft. The other man looked much gentler only illuminated by the flame of his cigar and the dim light emanating from the windows to his side. Hanzo admired the strong set of his jaw mostly hidden behind the wild scruff and the dark tone of his eyes that seemed to be lost in the dark night.

 

Then those eyes turned to him, reminding him of the embarrassing moment earlier in the day, but it somehow so much more intimate, more important, in the current moment. Hanzo couldn’t turn away in time to look innocent of his staring, but McCree didn’t seem to care.

 

“I much prefer cigars, but it’s more handy to carry these for on the go.” He puffed out another lungful of smoke and plucked the cigarette out from between his lips with two fingers. He continued to face forward with his eyes turned sidewards to Hanzo. “Young folks too much for you?”

 

Hanzo nodded honestly and struggled to not ruin his perfect posture or rub the sides of his hair that he _knew_ were graying. “It seems I am not as young as I once was. Though, I never did favor these sort of group affairs with strangers.”

 

“I hear you,” McCree agreed, “Don’t know how Genji still manages to do it.”

 

Hanzo hummed in agreement, and silence fell over them once again, though not uncomfortable. But Hanzo finds himself _wanting_ to break the silence and let McCree know that the night wasn’t wasted. “I did enjoy myself, though.”

 

McCree turned to fully face Hanzo. “Well, I’m glad to hear it, Shimada. Reckon I was hopin’ to get to know you a bit better tonight since I know it ain’t always fun being new, but I’m thinkin’ that I ended up learning more about Lúcio’s frog obsession and what Twitch chat is instead.”

 

Hanzo struggled to ignore the cold feeling in his gut that said he actually knew quite a bit about McCree already, more than he had a right to know. So instead he said, “I would not be opposed to getting to know my next door neighbor in other settings.”

 

“I’d be damned pleased,” McCree said with a grin as he pushed himself off the wall, toeing off his cigarette embers onto the ground before picking it up again to discard. “You know where to find me.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

As it turned out, scheduling a meeting was as easy as knocking on McCree’s door on a whim. Less than an hour later, Hanzo found himself in a small local diner that McCree claimed to be the best around.

 

(Hanzo wondered, briefly, if McCree agreed so quickly because he was just as lonely as him. Or was it because McCree was just truly kind and really _nothing_ like him?

 

He forced himself to push down the memory of McCree’s restrained crying from what felt like so many nights ago.)

 

Their waitress set down two steaming cups of coffee on their booth’s table with a promise to be back soon to take their order. McCree stirred his coffee noisily, bubbles forming at the top as the cream swirled into the drink and paled the color of the coffee. He clanked the spoon against the inside of the cup one last time before looking back up at Hanzo.

 

“So, Hanzo, whatcha do for a livin?”

 

“I am a senior fund’s manager for Dairy Queen.”

 

McCree stared at him, surprise clear on his face. Hanzo had no idea why people always reacted like that; it wasn’t that difficult to climb up the ranks with speed so long as you were diligent in your work ethic.

 

“So you, uh,” McCree was at a loss for words for the first time. “Ya like milk or somethin’?”

 

It was Hanzo’s turn to stare back, perplexed.

 

“I am lactose intolerant.”

 

“Then why’d ya,” McCree started, but stopped, mouth opened and eyes squinted. He scratched his beard. “You, nevermind.”

 

There was a pregnant pause. Hanzo sipped his black coffee delicately, eyeing McCree from across the top of his mug. He gently put his mug back down.

 

“And you, McCree? Your career?”

 

McCree seemed to recollect himself. He leaned back more easily and replied, “Me? I’m just a lil ol’ poker player. A mighty fine one, though, I gotta say. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

 

Hanzo hummed, impressed. He had assumed McCree played some sort of sport based off of what he picked up on from overhearing conversations, but he didn’t expect poker.

 

“I have never played before,” Hanzo said.

 

McCree smiled widely and roughly put his mug done onto the table, coffee nearly spilling over with the resounding clank.

 

“We oughtta fix that sometime, huh? Get some lessons from the best.”

 

Hanzo couldn’t help the way the corner of his lip infectiously twitched upwards at McCree’s genuine enthusiasm.

 

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind that.”

 

The waitress appeared again with a bright smile and took their orders; McCree ordered something in friendly Spanish, obviously acquainted with this waitress as a testimony to his favorable reviews of the diner, and Hanzo went with McCree’s recommendation of the breakfast special.

 

“By the way, I noticed you got a lotta plants on that balcony of yours. Those all your work?”

 

Hanzo preened a bit under the praise. “Yes, I have a… fondness for gardening, I suppose. I have always wished to have my own garden, but I have not been able to until now.”

 

McCree whistled and said, “You’re new to it? Well, damn, color me impressed. It looks as good as they get.”

 

“I am limited by the space and my lack of experience with plant life, but I strive to improve my range over time.”

 

“Truthfully, I ain’t never been that great with plants,” McCree scratches his jaw thoughtfully, then smiled nostalgically. “Actually, the only plants I really had were some cacti in my backyard back when I was a kid in Santa Fe. Fell on top of one of ‘em when I climbed our backyard fence to try and sneak into the house through the backdoor. Guess I just ended up makin’ more of a racket in the end.”

 

Hanzo couldn’t press away his soft huff of laughter at that. “That sounds like something Genji would do. Though, Genji is 35 and not a teenager as you were,” he said, and paused. “You said you are from Santa Fe?”

 

McCree perked with the bittersweet smile of a man reminiscing of a well missed home, a look Hanzo could appreciate and empathize with. They swapped stories, mostly superficial, but they still satisfied something in Hanzo’s chest: their hometowns (Santa Fe’s cloudless summer nights and Hanamura’s cherry blossom filled spring days), their hobbies (Hanzo had the green thumb, and McCree was a mean chef), their mutual love for Genji (He tried to eat Hanzo’s pet goldfish Orihime when he was 6, and he tried to climb into McCree’s window for a birthday surprise).  

 

Even well after their meals arrived, neither man found themself sitting in silence for too long. With both coffee and company so rich, it was hard to leave conversation to sit idle. When they parted ways at their respective doors, the air was full of promises of next meetings and see you soon’s, and Hanzo wasn’t even mad when Genji texted him “told u i knew u and mccree would be best buds >:) genji 1 hanzo -3.”

 

(He did briefly block Genji’s number, though.)

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while yall B) but im back. next update will definitely not take that long. this chapter wasn't beta read; very sorry if there are errors!
> 
> also, thanks SO Much for all the lovely comments/kudos last chapter!!!! they're the reason why i decided to update again!! love u


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